Coulmier rested in his accommodations, damp and tired. One would think that
you wouldn't get tired sitting in a chair being swung backwards into a dank
pool, but you did. He sat with his quill and inkbottle out. He was
scrawling a few sentences to teach Elise. They had finished the entire
alphabet in their first lesson, but due to certain circumstances, had not
had a follow up. As he scribbled, he heard the soft pattering of the
laundress who was once his dear Maddy's mother.
She scraped open the door and poked her head through.
"Coulmier? I've brought you linens and news of Lise." She whispered.
Coulmier crawled out of the dark corner and crouched near the door.
"Is she alright? Did the doctor punish her?" he asked.
"She's fine now. The doctor gave her 40 lashes to compensate for her outburst the other day – which if I do say myself was a tad odd. I've patched her up, but the doctor requests that she work in the printing room. Franz has accidentally run his hand through the printer. Since he's off, Collard's put the girl in as a replacement."
"40 Lashes? Dear god. You say she is all right? I should hope so. When does the printing room usually end for the day? Will you take me to her tonight? I wish to see her." Coulmier rambled.
"Quiet dear. Yes, she's almost good as new save a scratch here and there. They should be done right around suppertime. You shouldn't even be needing to ask if I'll take you to her. Of course the answers yes Coulmier. But not tonight. The doctor is on patrol tonight. He's having a bad bout of insomnia lately. Not sleeping and such, so as a warning I suggest you and Lise keep things very silent tonight. Tomorrow evening though, the doctor is going to a play. He should be gone for a few days as the play is out of town. I'll take you to her then. Worry not my friend. You'll see her again." The Laundress winked and left him his pile of blankets.
Coulmier smiled weakly. 40 lashes? Her body looked like it barely withstood 5. He could only envision the gaping wounds on her back. The sudden recollection made him sensitive to his own scars. Softly, he ran a hand up his own chest and felt the scars that once threatened his life. Some long, others short, some extremely thick and others barely visible. Still, he remembered vividly the pain brought forth by the evil back whip. His heart felt a pang of sorrow for the girl.
This sudden emotion rattled him. What was this? Could he feel more than he should with this girl? The priest still in him shouted that this was wrong, but the man inside his heart said that quite possibly, it could be more than his imagination. Time would tell, but for now, he was content having good conversations.
Elise sat at the printing press and turned the lever as she'd been instructed. Beside her a short fat man with balding hair and a stench that would wake the dead sat. He fed paper onto the spool that went through the printer. A repetitive job, but nonetheless different from her daily routine therefore causing her to feel uncomfortable. The inmates stared at her. She was one of two women in the room and she was obviously the younger of them.
The other woman was thin with shoulder length wiry hair. Her eyes were sunk into her puffy face and her mouth sucked inwards as if she'd eaten a lemon. Elise tried to smile and look like a contented worker but the façade proved to difficult.
With every turn of the lever, Elise could almost feel the dirt and grime of the room collapsing in on her. She'd never known her disability to be so strong. Chalking it up to that conclusion that it hadn't been active for a few weeks seemed plausible. Whatever was causing her to sweat so profusely was simply her nerves having been isolated for so long. That must be it.
When the whistle blew for the end of the day, her escort came and unchained her from the press only to enchain again her to a line of prisoners. She was at the end, most likely due to her room high in the tower. As they shuffled along, to ease her nerves Elise counted her steps. She calculated the distance she was walking and the using Pythagoras theorem determined the perimeter of the triangle that her legs and the floor made. They stopped frequently to dispose of an inmate here and there.
Finally, it was just her and the escort. Her back seared from all the pain of standing and climbing stairs. She was almost certain that she could feel the cuts splitting further as she walked. When they reached her room, the escort threw open her door and pushed her in, a harsh hand putting force on her wounds. She screamed in agony and fell to the floor on her mat. She fell asleep from utter pain and sheer fatigue.
Doctor Royer-Collard was busy packing for his trip out of town to see a few plays and all he could think of was the girl. The girl with dark hair. He almost smiled when he pictured her splayed spread eagle against the lashing wall. Her soft supple young body getting tortured.
What was it about this one? There had been many female patients at Charenton before. Perhaps it was her winning smile, her young body, he mused. He quickly glanced over his desk to see if he was missing anything and saw a picture of Simone, his late wife. He brow furrowed as he remembered the young architect he'd hired to build her a home. The same young architect who stole her from him. He frowned at the picture and realized what it was about Elise.
She looked exactly like Simone.
Coulmier lay in wait in his room for Elise to return from her first day of labor. He needn't wait long. He soon heard the shuffling of footsteps and the groan of a door being pulled shut. When he was sure no one was near, he pried the rock loose that connected their rooms.
"Elise? Elise? Are you alright?" he whispered. He heard muffled cries and sobs but saw nothing. He waited silently for her to finish. When she was ready, he saw her form sit up and disappear as she leaned against the wall.
"Oh Coulmier. I'm sorry." She began apologizing.
Coulmier smiled, even though she could not see it, he knew she felt it.
"Sorry for what?" he asked quietly.
"Sorry for getting you into trouble, for attacking you like that. I never meant to. It's just... it's really just..." her voice broke. Coulmier's smiled dropped on either side.
"Its understandable. Don't worry. I've taken no offense." He tried to comfort her.
"No, no its not. I should be able to keep it under control. I must. I must always make sure it is kept safe." Elise mumbled to herself.
Coulmier felt his heart break as he listened to his friend. He understood what it felt like to act out occasionally. He himself has a lapse of judgment only days ago whilst being forced to endure a second hour of the dunking chair. Violent screams filled the Charenton bellows, Elise had asked but Coulmier, ashamed of his behavior, said nothing.
"Look here Elise." He whispered. "I've made up some new reading and writing lessons for you. Here! Take them." He rolled them lengthways and slid them through. Soon following was a quill dipped in ink.
He heard her hiccup and he thought he saw a small smile.
"Oh Coulmier, you always know how to make me grin." She hiccupped again.
As she said those words, Coulmier felt his heart tighten with a happiness he hadn't felt in a very long time.
She scraped open the door and poked her head through.
"Coulmier? I've brought you linens and news of Lise." She whispered.
Coulmier crawled out of the dark corner and crouched near the door.
"Is she alright? Did the doctor punish her?" he asked.
"She's fine now. The doctor gave her 40 lashes to compensate for her outburst the other day – which if I do say myself was a tad odd. I've patched her up, but the doctor requests that she work in the printing room. Franz has accidentally run his hand through the printer. Since he's off, Collard's put the girl in as a replacement."
"40 Lashes? Dear god. You say she is all right? I should hope so. When does the printing room usually end for the day? Will you take me to her tonight? I wish to see her." Coulmier rambled.
"Quiet dear. Yes, she's almost good as new save a scratch here and there. They should be done right around suppertime. You shouldn't even be needing to ask if I'll take you to her. Of course the answers yes Coulmier. But not tonight. The doctor is on patrol tonight. He's having a bad bout of insomnia lately. Not sleeping and such, so as a warning I suggest you and Lise keep things very silent tonight. Tomorrow evening though, the doctor is going to a play. He should be gone for a few days as the play is out of town. I'll take you to her then. Worry not my friend. You'll see her again." The Laundress winked and left him his pile of blankets.
Coulmier smiled weakly. 40 lashes? Her body looked like it barely withstood 5. He could only envision the gaping wounds on her back. The sudden recollection made him sensitive to his own scars. Softly, he ran a hand up his own chest and felt the scars that once threatened his life. Some long, others short, some extremely thick and others barely visible. Still, he remembered vividly the pain brought forth by the evil back whip. His heart felt a pang of sorrow for the girl.
This sudden emotion rattled him. What was this? Could he feel more than he should with this girl? The priest still in him shouted that this was wrong, but the man inside his heart said that quite possibly, it could be more than his imagination. Time would tell, but for now, he was content having good conversations.
Elise sat at the printing press and turned the lever as she'd been instructed. Beside her a short fat man with balding hair and a stench that would wake the dead sat. He fed paper onto the spool that went through the printer. A repetitive job, but nonetheless different from her daily routine therefore causing her to feel uncomfortable. The inmates stared at her. She was one of two women in the room and she was obviously the younger of them.
The other woman was thin with shoulder length wiry hair. Her eyes were sunk into her puffy face and her mouth sucked inwards as if she'd eaten a lemon. Elise tried to smile and look like a contented worker but the façade proved to difficult.
With every turn of the lever, Elise could almost feel the dirt and grime of the room collapsing in on her. She'd never known her disability to be so strong. Chalking it up to that conclusion that it hadn't been active for a few weeks seemed plausible. Whatever was causing her to sweat so profusely was simply her nerves having been isolated for so long. That must be it.
When the whistle blew for the end of the day, her escort came and unchained her from the press only to enchain again her to a line of prisoners. She was at the end, most likely due to her room high in the tower. As they shuffled along, to ease her nerves Elise counted her steps. She calculated the distance she was walking and the using Pythagoras theorem determined the perimeter of the triangle that her legs and the floor made. They stopped frequently to dispose of an inmate here and there.
Finally, it was just her and the escort. Her back seared from all the pain of standing and climbing stairs. She was almost certain that she could feel the cuts splitting further as she walked. When they reached her room, the escort threw open her door and pushed her in, a harsh hand putting force on her wounds. She screamed in agony and fell to the floor on her mat. She fell asleep from utter pain and sheer fatigue.
Doctor Royer-Collard was busy packing for his trip out of town to see a few plays and all he could think of was the girl. The girl with dark hair. He almost smiled when he pictured her splayed spread eagle against the lashing wall. Her soft supple young body getting tortured.
What was it about this one? There had been many female patients at Charenton before. Perhaps it was her winning smile, her young body, he mused. He quickly glanced over his desk to see if he was missing anything and saw a picture of Simone, his late wife. He brow furrowed as he remembered the young architect he'd hired to build her a home. The same young architect who stole her from him. He frowned at the picture and realized what it was about Elise.
She looked exactly like Simone.
Coulmier lay in wait in his room for Elise to return from her first day of labor. He needn't wait long. He soon heard the shuffling of footsteps and the groan of a door being pulled shut. When he was sure no one was near, he pried the rock loose that connected their rooms.
"Elise? Elise? Are you alright?" he whispered. He heard muffled cries and sobs but saw nothing. He waited silently for her to finish. When she was ready, he saw her form sit up and disappear as she leaned against the wall.
"Oh Coulmier. I'm sorry." She began apologizing.
Coulmier smiled, even though she could not see it, he knew she felt it.
"Sorry for what?" he asked quietly.
"Sorry for getting you into trouble, for attacking you like that. I never meant to. It's just... it's really just..." her voice broke. Coulmier's smiled dropped on either side.
"Its understandable. Don't worry. I've taken no offense." He tried to comfort her.
"No, no its not. I should be able to keep it under control. I must. I must always make sure it is kept safe." Elise mumbled to herself.
Coulmier felt his heart break as he listened to his friend. He understood what it felt like to act out occasionally. He himself has a lapse of judgment only days ago whilst being forced to endure a second hour of the dunking chair. Violent screams filled the Charenton bellows, Elise had asked but Coulmier, ashamed of his behavior, said nothing.
"Look here Elise." He whispered. "I've made up some new reading and writing lessons for you. Here! Take them." He rolled them lengthways and slid them through. Soon following was a quill dipped in ink.
He heard her hiccup and he thought he saw a small smile.
"Oh Coulmier, you always know how to make me grin." She hiccupped again.
As she said those words, Coulmier felt his heart tighten with a happiness he hadn't felt in a very long time.